by Kate Pearce
“Was he also a navy man?”
She sighed as though she was answering an annoying child. “My father was in the army. When he was alive, we traveled with him. “
“Where did he serve?”
“Mainly in India.”
Francis finished his wine and poured himself another glass. “I have an intimate acquaintance with that continent, firstly in the army, and then in trade. What was your father’s name?”
She glanced up at him then; her gaze wary and he shrugged. “I’m just making conversation, Mrs. Harding. Surely, telling me your father’s surname won’t affect my opinion of you.”
“I suspect your opinion of me can hardly sink any lower, Captain, seeing as I am sitting here at your request for the princely sum of a shilling.”
He laughed at that, but she didn’t join in. His opinion of her rose again, and he found himself enjoying himself for the first time in a long while.
“My father’s name was Delisle.” Mrs. Harding said reluctantly.
Francis frowned. He’d heard that name recently, but in what context?
“A French name.”
“I believe the family came over with William the Conqueror, sir.”
“Unlike mine who were fighting for good King Harold.” He held her gaze. “Then you have been brought very low indeed, Mrs. Harding.”
She raised her chin. “Only financially, sir.”
“Now you sound like my mother.“ He grimaced. “I suspect she would behave like you, Mrs. Harding, being too full of pride to accept any help.”
“You are not offering to help me.”
“I’m offering you a place in my bed. Isn’t that better than what you have now?”
“I believe we have already discussed this, Captain. I prefer to earn my bread with my hands rather than on my back.”
Francis sat back and regarded her. “And exactly how do you do that? With all due respect, you hardly seem to be prospering.”
“My mother and I work for a local dressmaker.”
Francis frowned. “If your mother was the widow of a career soldier why didn’t she receive a pension after his death?”
“She did.” Mrs. Reynolds shifted in her seat. “Unfortunately, she found it impossible to live within her means, and decided to leave India and live with me and my husband when we settled in England.”
“Did they ask her to leave? I’ll wager they did if she was up to her ears in debt.” Francis chuckled. “How embarrassing. Did she run through everything?”
“That is none of your concern, is it, sir? After my late husband’s family refused to offer us a home, we had to find work.” Mrs. Reynolds explained somewhat stiffly. My mother is very skilled, and I have an aptitude for bookkeeping.”
“Your employer allows you to keep the books?”
“She employs an accountant, but I am the one who does most of the day-to-day work.”
Francis smiled. “Have you ever thought of becoming a rent collector, Mrs. Harding? Mr. Keswick’s job might fall vacant soon.”
“Because of his behavior toward me?”
“No, because of his inability to add up.” Her face fell, and he felt compelled to continue. “I can’t fault him for wanting to take advantage of you, Mrs. Harding, when I am intent on doing so myself.”
She held his gaze. “You appear to have finished eating, Captain, May I go now?”
He glanced down at her plate. We haven’t even started on dessert yet.”
“I’ve had quite enough, thank you.”
“How can I persuade you to extend your stay, Mrs. Harding? How about I send you home with the remains of our dinner?”
She glanced down at the food and visibly swallowed. “You really do think very poorly of me, sir, don’t you?”
“No I don’t. There’s no shame in being hungry. I’m just not above using every advantage I have.”
She raised her indignant gaze to his. “You have every advantage, sir, and you know it!”
“I beg to differ. You have something that I want. Surely that gives you all the power?”
“To sell you my body?”
He shrugged. “To enjoy a pleasant sexual liaison with a man who wants you in his bed. Or would you rather endure Mr. Keswick’s attentions?”
She shot to her feet. “Are you threatening me, Captain Grafton?”
He held her gaze. “You came here with the intent to lie with him, didn’t you, so why are you so angry when I offer you an alternative?”
“Because…” She hesitated. “Because I thought you were a gentleman.”
He laughed. “Well, that was your first mistake, Mrs. Harding. I’m a disgrace to my noble blood, and my name has probably been struck from the family Bible.” He picked up her wine glass and offered it to her. “Now sit down like a good girl and amuse me.”
She took the glass from him, and he gestured at her chair. “Thank you.”
With a contemptuous shake of her head, she raised the glass, and tossed the contents in his face. He spluttered and leapt to his feet intent on catching her before she escaped. By the time he reached her, she already had the door partially open, and the roar of the crowded bar filled his ears. With his superior height he was able to slam his hand against the wood and halt her progress.
She wrenched at the door handle, but he leaned his weight onto the wood. She went still and turned to face him, her expression so full of fear that he immediately wanted to reassure her, a quite unusual urge for a man of his appetites
“Let me go, sir.”
He touched her trembling mouth and traced the curve of her lip.
“I might be a scoundrel, Mrs. Harding, but I’ve never had to resort to rape to take my pleasure.”
“Then you will let me leave in peace, and no more need be said.”
He studied her fine features and suddenly things fell into place.
“Delisle…” He felt the tension sweep through her narrow frame. “I’ve just remembered where I heard that name before.” He smiled. “I believe I had the pleasure of meeting your mother this afternoon at the vicarage. She owes me three pounds.”
“Oh dear God,” Mrs. Harding whispered. “Of course. I should have known it was you all along.”
She seemed to slump before his eyes, as if he’d finally beaten her to the ground. The sight affected him far more than he would have expected. He guided her back to the fire and sat her down where she immediately wrapped her arms around herself.
“How is it that your mother plays cards with the ladies of the town when you told me she works for her living at the dressmakers?” Francis asked.
“She… has not accepted her change in circumstances.”
Her voice sounded dull now as if she’d lost all hope.
“Let me guess. She was the one spending the rent money.”
“Yes.”
Francis frowned. He didn’t like this. Where was the spirit she had shown him earlier?
Caroline became aware that he was scowling at her, and that she had to do something. “I do not have the money to repay her debt to you. Even if I pawn everything we own, I still would not have enough.” She swallowed hard. “So I suppose you have won, after all, Captain.”
“Won what?” He raised a damming eyebrow.
“Me.”
He stared at her, his gaze assessing. “You give in far too easily, Mrs. Harding.”
“What?”
He shrugged, still elegant despite the splashes of red wine spoiling his immaculate linen. “I expected so much more from you than this complete capitulation. Where is your pride? Why stop at throwing a glass of wine in my face? Why not attempt to brain me with the poker?”
For a moment, she just gaped at him. “What are you suggesting?”
“That we make this arrangement more interesting.”
“What arrangement?”
“The one I am about to propose to you.” He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at the wine on his face. “I’ll allow you to pay back your mother’s de
bt to me in exchange for you keeping an eye on my accounting books.”
Caroline found it difficult to breathe. “Why would you do this?”
“Because I need someone to oversee my accounts, and with this arrangement I will receive those services for free.”
“Not exactly, sir. You are still three pounds out of pocket.”
“If I take into account Mr. Keswick’s appalling grasp of mathematics, and the money he already loses me, I’m sure I’ll recoup my investment very quickly.” He held out his hand. “Do you agree to our bargain?”
“Wait,” Caroline said desperately. “For how long must I provide these services?”
“Until the debt is paid off.”
“And who decides when that will be?”
“I do. His smile was a provocative challenge. “Now will you accept my offer?”
“Will you include my rent payment in your accounting?” Caroline asked.
“That’s better. Yes. I’ll forgo your pitiful three shillings until the debt is paid off to my satisfaction.”
Impulsively, she reached across the table, and shook his proffered hand. He drew her to her feet and looked down at her.
Relief made her tongue reckless. “Then you do not really want to bed me after all, sir?”
“Oh, but I do, Mrs. Harding.”
“Then why…?”
He bent his head and kissed her and, the heady bouquet of the red wine surrounded her making her feel dizzy. He angled his mouth over hers seeking admittance and she let him in, too thankful to fight at that moment. His hand slid around her neck as he deepened the kiss, and she could do nothing but stand there, her eyes closed and her hands clenched into fists to stop herself from touching him.
When he finally raised his head, his eyes were narrowed and glinting with amusement.
“I’m giving you, what in our world is called, a sporting chance, Mrs. Harding. I’m hoping you’ll choose to come to my bed willingly in the end.”
She didn’t dare reply, and she guessed he knew it because he carried on speaking.
“But next time you come to me for help, I’ll expect you to pay your debts in full in whatever way I desire. Do you understand me?”
Caroline nodded and pressed the shilling into his hand, her fingers shaking. She could only pray to God that she never had occasion to cross him again because she had no doubt that he meant every word.
Chapter 3
“Thank you, Mr. Keswick. I’ll tell Captain Grafton that you were extremely helpful.”
Caroline closed the ledger and put her pen back in the inkwell. She was sitting at the desk in the back parlor of the George and Dragon with a warm fire at her back, and a strong pot of tea at her elbow.
“The monthly accounts are now up to date and balanced.”
“No thanks to thee,” Mr. Keswick growled. “Interfering old biddy.”
“I’m merely doing what our employer asked me to.”
“We all know what you’re doing, Mrs. Harding.” Mr. Keswick leaned his palms flat down on the table and thrust his face close to Caroline’s. “Warming his lordship’s bed.”
“That isn’t true. Firstly, as you well know, I live with my mother and sisters, and secondly, Captain Grafton hasn’t been in Millcastle for almost a month.”
A situation that pleased her enormously. She didn’t like how he made her feel but was grateful he’d given her the chance to recover from her mother’s mistakes. The strange evening she’d spent with him when he’d offered her the job, kissed her, enraged her, and still sent her home with the remains of his dinner refused to leave her mind.
“Won’t be long though, will it?” Mr. Keswick jeered. “The captain’s already warned everyone else off.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about, sir.” Tired of Mr. Keswick towering over her Caroline rose to her feet. “From what I understand of our employer, his tastes run to opera singers and married aristocratic women. I am far too poor and lowly to merit his attention.”
She hoped this was true—that his extraordinary interest in her would have dispelled when he appeared in Millcastle again. If it hadn’t… she would simply do her best to keep out of his way.
Mr. Keswick left slamming the door behind him. Caroline finished her tea and locked the accounts book in the desk. She had to assume that Captain Grafton would return soon to review her work. If she had proved her worth, she hoped he would relieve her of her duties, forgive her debt, or perhaps even pay her to continue.
An image of his cold eyes and infuriating smile flashed across her mind and she shivered. Since dealing with the bookwork at the tavern, she’d heard plenty of stories about how ‘the Captain’ as he was known, ran his businesses and none of them were pleasant. Despite being of obvious aristocratic blood, he was known as a hard man not averse to getting his hands dirty when necessary. He owned almost all the land around Three Coins.
Caroline took the teapot and cup back into the kitchen of the inn and washed them out in the sink.
“You off, then, dearie?”
“Yes, Mrs. Bridgewater. Thank you for the tea.” Caroline turned to smile at Nancy, the petite blond woman who ran the inn with her much larger and fiercer looking husband Ned. “I think everything is ready for Captain Grafton now.”
“I’m sure his lordship will be back to count his ill-gotten gains soon.” Nancy handed Caroline a basket. “Got some sausages and a few slices of lamb in there. Should make a nice dinner for you.”
“Thank you,” Caroline smiled. “My sister Ivy loves sausages.”
Nancy poked Caroline in the ribs. “Mind you eat some yourself. The Captain likes a bit of meat on his women.”
“I’m not his woman. I mean, he hasn’t…” Caroline stuttered to explain.
“But he will, love. Mark my words. I saw the way he looked at you.”
“But, why?” Caroline risked the question. “I have nothing to offer him, and I don’t want his attentions.”
Nancy cackled. “Which is probably why he likes you. He’s a cussed old git, a right contrary Mary as my mother would’ve said.” She lowered her voice. “And if he does get you into bed, you come to me if you want to know how to avoid giving him a bastard he won’t want.”
Caroline clutched the handle of the basket hard. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“A bit of sponge soaked in tansy oil slipped up high inside you, and you won’t quicken.”
“I—” Caroline stared helplessly at Nancy who sighed.
“You’re like a babe in the woods, aren’t you, dearie?” Nancy patted her arm. “Just remember, when you are in need, come and see Nancy, and I’ll set you to rights.”
“Thank you.” Caroline nodded and headed for the door. “Especially for the food.”
The landlady rolled her eyes. “If I were you, I’d be more worried about what else could fill your belly but get along with you now. It’s getting dark out there.”
Caroline escaped into the frigid air and drew her shawl over her head. It was bitterly cold, and the millworkers were streaming out of the gates heads bowed, clogs clattering on the cobblestones as they made their way home. Most of them lived in Three Coins, so Caroline only had to follow along.
“Mrs. Harding. Good evening!”
Caroline looked up to find Jon Ford in her path. He held out his hand for her basket.
“May I carry that for you?”
“Good evening, Mr. Ford.”
She relinquished the basket and fell into step beside him. He was a large man with a quiet smile who lived with his mother in one of the better dwellings toward the front of Three Coins. He’d taught himself to read and write and enjoyed nothing more than sitting down with Caroline and her family and discussing current affairs and literature. He said there were very few others who cared about such matters in Millcastle, and Caroline had to agree with him.
His interest in her was also obvious, and that made Caroline wary. Her sister Ruby adored Mr. Ford and insisted that if Caroline wo
uld just stop being a snob he would suit her perfectly. But it wasn’t that. Since her brief marriage, she was wary of all men and their deceitful ways. Her deceased husband had appeared perfectly amiable until she married to him, and then he’d insisted she obey his every command.
At least she knew Captain Francis Grafton was up to no good...
“How goes your new job, Mrs. Harding?”
“It’s hardly a job.” Ruby had already blabbed all the minimal details Caroline had shared with her sisters to their neighbor. “I’ve finished going through this month’s books, and everything is now in order.” Caroline sighed as Jon guided her across the cobbled street. “Mr. Keswick was stealing money hand over fist. I dread to think what Captain Grafton will do to him.”
“The Captain is a hard man.” Jon’s usual smile was absent. “I doubt Mr. Keswick will have a job for much longer—not that he deserves any sympathy, mind.”
“I have no sympathy for him.” Caroline shuddered as she remembered Mr. Keswick’s meaty paws fumbling with her bodice. “I must confess that I am worried he will take out his anger on me rather than on his employer.”
“He’s a weak man, but you might be right.”
Caroline glanced up at the big man as they turned into her street. He smelled like the mill—a mixture of oily machinery, sweat, and cotton. “That’s not very reassuring.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.” His smile was fleeting. “You forget that these hovels and the people who inhabit them are dangerous.”
“How could I forget that?” Caroline protested. “I live here.”
“But you weren’t born into this.” He stopped walking and stared down at her. “Although, I doubt you have to worry about Billy Keswick when Captain Grafton has made it clear that you are under his protection.”
Caroline raised her chin. “What are you implying?”
“I think you know, lass.” His brown gaze was steady and unavoidable. “He doesn’t do things out of the goodness of his heart. He’s put his mark on you.”
“Oh for goodness sake, Jon, don’t you start.” Caroline almost stamped her foot. “I thought you were my friend.”
“I am.” He gently cupped her elbow. “You should know what’s being said about you.”
